


Red

by Capsiclegirl



Category: Richard Madden/Taron Egerton - Fandom, Rocketman (2019)
Genre: After care, Cock Rings, Feminization, Fluff, Humiliation, Love, M/M, cross-dressing, safe words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 23:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capsiclegirl/pseuds/Capsiclegirl
Summary: Richard and Taron have an evening planned with their cor-star Jamie and several other friends. But Richard has plans for Taron that evening which take things way too far.Despite this, Richard is Taron's rock and they will make it out the other side stronger, after pizza and a movie, of course.





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to do a fic where Taron has to safe word and make things stop, but he's too much of a pain slut in this to use red over something hurting too much. So I decided to make it about his looks, because that seemed more realistic. Please don't hate me!

Taron sits still in the chair, trying to sit comfortably while Richard works. He focuses intently on the mirror in front of him, watching his reflection transform before his eyes as it has so many times before. He likes the feeling of being worked on in general, but finds himself unsure as Richard works. He feels like this will be strange, and he’s a little anxious as Richard applies foundation to his cheeks. He’s shaved, his beard, his head, everywhere. 

Richard smiles from ear to ear as he applies blush, and then eye shadow. Teron does like some of the shapes that are standing out, his cheekbones and the color of his eyes accentuated by the brushes of color. Richard is good at this, and he’s thankful for that, glad he won’t look like he’s wearing drag makeup.

“Okay love, close your eyes,” he says, sweetly, taking out the mascara brush and cupping Taron’s face, making Taron feel small and used. Like a toy, but in the best possible way. Taron turns his face up toward him, closing his eyes and feeling nervous as the tiny brush catches his lashes. He breathes, trying to hold still, his eyelids fluttering as Richard works. 

“Easy love, almost done,” whispers Richard, letting go of Taron’s face and giving him a kiss between the eyes. Taron opens his eyes again and Richard holds up a small mirror to show Taron his eyes. The eyeliner is thick and the mascara clearly shows of his long eyelashes. Taron blushes and sputters, turning away.

“Something wrong, love?” asks Richard, petting the back of Taron’s head. Taron shakes his head and says “I’m fine, like what I’m seeing. Feel uneasy but I like...” He was really unsure about this, but loved the attention and really wanted to do this for Richard.

When Richard had told him about what he wanted to do, dress him up in a dress, feminization play, Taron had had mixed feelings. But so far the attention and the loving care had been fantastic, and the challenge of doing something he was uncertain of seemed strangely enticing to Taron. 

Richard had wanted to make Taron feel helpless here; makingTaron feel uncomfortable was part of the point. Making his partner take on a presentation and persona he didn’t like for an evening. To humiliate him.

Taron had learned to love dressing up on set, and he was used to putting on makeup and even being pampered a bit. Here things felt different, but he trusted Richard. Still, his uneasiness showed through despite his trust of the hands touching him.

“Do you need to safeword?” Richard asks, pulling him close by the back of his head. Taron feels Richard’s fingers brush across his bald scalp, and bites his lips, before shaking his head no and then saying no. “I’m fine, I want to at least see what I look like.”

He had shaved his whole head after filming ended, and he was terrified it wouldn’t come back. Richard constantly assured him that he looked great, but Taron felt a bit freakish wearing all of this makeup and getting dressed up while feeling vulnerable and ugly. God, he felt ugly. 

Richard smiles at his reassurance, wanting to finish dressing him up and seeing how it turned out. He picks up a tube of bright red lipstick and applies it to Taron’s lips, biting his own as he looks at the results. He makes Taron press his lips into a piece of tissue paper to wipe off excess, and then starts to add the wig. 

It was sandy blonde and curled out into luscious frilly locks, and Taron did like the way it looked. As Richard adjusted the wig he caught a glimpse of himself over Richard’s shoulder, liking the way that it looked and liking the feel of having hair on his head again. He sits quietly as Richard put in on him, glad to see it looked good with his skin tone and tries to disappear into the character Richard is building. This was play, after all, and he enjoyed being humiliated. He should try, he would try.

Richard styles the hair a little, and then adds a few bobby pins to keep the wig in place. “Good,” he purrs, petting Taron’s head and smiling, so proud of him. 

When he finally was fully dressed, Taron was mesmerized with the appearance of the person in the mirror in front of him. He looks at a curvy girl in a short black dress, luscious thighs, and a pretty made up face. He admires the eyes, the hair, the smooth, albeit masculine features. She was pretty.

“Good girl,” whispers Richard, and Taron pretends that he’s saying that to the girl in the mirror. Its acting, playing a role. Richard then pulls his favorite cock ring out of his pocket and lifts up Taron’s skirt, pulling down the silken panties he wore. Taron had actually really liked the lingerie, found it soft and enticing and sexy. But as Richard put the ring on his flaccid cock and said, “good girls don’t get hard,” he suddenly felt on cloud nine. This was deliciously humiliating, and he decides to focus on the aspects he likes

“Okay, we’re almost done. Don’t want to keep our guests waiting,” murmurs Richard, straightening out Taron’s dress. This statement suddenly pulls Taron out of the happy place he found with this and he feels uneasy again. 

Taron bites his lips, thinking about calling yellow, but catching another glimpse at the pretty girl in the mirror who he gets to be for an evening puts him back in it. He’s an actor, this is acting. He’s comfortable again, just playing dress up and stepping into someone else for an evening.

The girl in the mirror is beautiful, but he still wishes he felt that beautiful in his own skin right then. 

He steps into a pair of black high heels, making himself even taller, and curiously turns from side to side to look at his reflection.

“Spin for me,” says Richard, and Taron complies, twirling a little and losing his balance due to the heels. Richard catches his arm and keeps him from falling, and the touch makes Taron feel confident again. That touch always anchors him, and the feeling of being caught when falling causes him to lose himself again, looking up into those beautiful eyes. 

“Okay love, they’re waiting for us.”

It was at Taron’s London flat, a party prepared and all the guests informed of the ‘presentation’ of Taron. Richard had planned to have a party where he got to show Taron off as his sub, and Taron had been thrilled. Coming out like this, however, was not something Taron had been excited about. But the idea of Richard dictating for an evening something to humiliate and make him feel uncomfortable, in front of his closest friends? That was the part that he liked. He liked to feel vulnerable. 

Richard had been so excited to show him off, and smiled as he admired his work, with love in his eyes.

“You are so beautiful. How do you feel?” he asks again, biting his lips at the gorgeous sight of Taron trying to stay up on his high heels. He had worn them before in scenes, but never walked in them before. 

“Uncomfortable? Not badly so, and excited? It’s mixed,” says Taron, giving small glances to his reflection and smiling nervously. 

“Okay, well we’re gonna go out there now, and if you feel you need to safeword, do so,” says Richard, putting his arm around Taron’s waist, before remembering one last thing. He pulls out Taron’s collar and buckles it around Taron’s neck, so happy to see Taron’s eyes light up. That lightness of excitement fills them both, and they walk out of the bedroom together, through the hallway, and enter the den. 

Taron’s home is plush, tidy, and modern. A fire is roaring in the hearth and several friends are sitting around it on sofas and comfy chairs.

Jamie Bell and his wife Kate were among the first to get up and greet them, slowly followed by Taron’s friends and some of Richard’s.

“You look beautiful,” says Kate, stepping back and getting a good view of Taron. Taron is tense but Richard puts his hand on his waist again, anchoring him. 

“What do we say, dear?” asks Richard, not quite corrective.

“Thank you, Kate,” says Taron, shyly, and Richard leans in and gives him a gentle peck before walking off to go get everyone drinks and to check on dinner the pizza. 

“I would have been skeptical had it not been for all of the ridiculous stuff you wore on set. But look at you, all dolled up,” observes Jamie, walking around Taron with his hand to his chin, a bit skeptical. “You make a pretty girl, lad.” Taron is blushing from ear to ear, and is a bit frozen but trying to relax. He trusts these people, and they like him. He had been worried about bad reactions all around.

“I’d date him,” pipes in one of Taron’s friends, casually, as Richard gets back with a bottle and several wine glasses on a tray.

“Well, you can’t ‘ave her,” he says, setting down the tray. “Taron, why don’t you be a dear and pour everyone a drink?” 

Taron leans over the table and picks up the bottle, glad to have a task. He breathes a bit more and focuses on pouring without spilling. Richard stands close behind him, hand on the small of his back. The hand begins to wander and Taron relaxes more, so happy as Richard snakes his hand under the skirt and runs it over the silk panties.

His breath hitches as he feels Richard lift his dress, showing off his round bum to everyone. He’s like a prop to show off, and its deliciously objectifying. 

“I’d love me a taste of that ass sometime,” says Jamie, admiringly, getting a playful swat from Kate. 

“Maybe some time, but not tonight. Tonight, she’s mine,” says Richard, and Taron feels a rush of different emotions and focuses on how much he loves when Richard is possessive. 

He finishes pouring the drinks and picks up the tray, and Richard waves for him to serve everyone, which he does, quietly.

“Now Taron, what’s a good name to call a pretty thing like you when you’re all dolled up like this?” asks Richard, and Taron almost drops the tray. “Taron means ‘thunder’ need a proper girl name for you.” 

Taron blushes up to his hairline, bending down to give his friend Jack a glass from the tray.

Jack gives him a knowing grin, raising his eyebrows slightly in a question: all good?”

Taron gives a reassuring nod, knowing that he’s safe with these people. 

“Terry?” asks Kate, unsure as she sips her wine.

“No, too close. Also still a bit masc. Something cute,” says Richard leaning in and giving Taron’s bum a squeeze as Taron lets him take a glass from a tray. The touch has Taron swooning, but a look from Richard has him back to using correct posture and walking like a lady

Taron feels so objectified and it’s starting to feel more comfortable. Everyone thinks he’s pretty, and he’s safe and Richard can show him off as his possession. He’s allowing himself to let the others into the scene mentally, and he trusts Richard. 

“Erin” asks Jamie, standing up as he takes a glass of wine. “That’s a pretty name, and for such a pretty girl.” Jamie runs a large hand over Taron’s cheek, and Taron gasps in a breath, biting his lips. A rush of arousal pools in his belly but the cock ring keeps him from becoming hard. It’s delicious, feeling so on edge in front of this beautiful man.

“Erin it is,” says Richard, absently, as he scrolls through his phone to check on the delivery. “Food will be here in an hour.”

Everyone chimes in that that’s fine, but Taron is tuning out. He’s focused on how Richard and everyone spoke about him like he didn’t get a say. He’s losing it, blushing and becoming flushed, and all is good. When everyone has their drinks, Richard motions him over. The older man spreads his knees and let’s Taron sit down between them, and Richard puts a hand on his thigh, another around his stomach.

“Hmm, pretty girl,” he coos, against Taron’s neck. Taron feels held, safe and even comfortable. He’s pretty, he’s vulnerable, and Richard has him. 

The conversation goes on about everyones’ lives, Jamie and Kate’s recent trip and about the kids and about dancing and movie roles and Taron’s heart is bursting with the way Jamie looks at him. With the approving smile that Kate gives to Jamie. 

His school friend seem approving too, glad that he has found something that he likes. He had been the one to support them and constantly struggle himself in his love life. When Richard had contacted them with this, despite at first finding the idea strange, it also seemed supportive, coming to see their mate in his rawest and most vulnerable state with someone that he loved. Plus, they could tease him about it afterwards.

Taron being so lost in the feeling of the evening makes his body relax. Richard runs his hands up and down his arm, soothes over his neck. Taron’s skin flushes against the soft ministrations, and Richard listens to their friends and hums in appreciation as Taron every now and then shifts his weight but mostly stays still and sits ‘like a lady.’

“So how about you two? How’s it been since filming ended?” asks Jamie, holding his wife’s hand and sipping from his glass.

“Taron has been doing recording and other post production work, I’ve been working on promoting The Bodyguard,” says Richard absently, glancing around and noticing a few of their friends’ glasses are low. “Erin, why don’t you get up and refill everyone’s glasses? There’s a good girl,” he says, giving Taron a little push. Taron at first doesn’t move, too lost and comfy on the couch. In the safety between Richard’s legs. 

“Come on, up,” and Richard stands him up, rising himself with Taron. He gives Taron a smack on the bum, a little hard, and the sting of the bare handed slap makes him jump a little in his heels. 

“Takes some training, doesn’t she?” asks Jamie, holding out his glass. Taron refills his glass with unsteady hands, more blood rushing to down but unable to get hard. Delicious torture. Still, he manages to not spill the wine and moves on to the next outstretched glass.

“She does, but she’s obedient once you apply the right... incentives,” says Richard, lounging back into the couch and grinning at the bright blush that comes to Taron’s cheeks. “She doesn’t fight back, though. Just like a proper lady.”

Taron feels himself wobble in his heels, his cock now straining to become hard against the ring. He pours Kate a glass and moves on, trying to keep his composure.

“Gracefully, young lady,” says Richard, and the admonishment makes him spill some of the wine. 

“Clean that up,” says Richard, standing again, looking down at the spill on the clean floor with a frown. Taron drops to his knees and Richard throws him a towel from the bar, and he starts to sop up the mess.

His backside is sticking out of the dress and he feels goosebumps standing up on his exposed thighs. He’s floaty at this point, sub space engulfing him as he works and he bites his lip at Richard’s gaze. 

“Right there, girl,” admonishes Richard, pointing. At the floor.

“So since filming stopped, Taron’s been keeping a bit of Elton in his life?” asks Kate, wanting to keep the conversation going and pretending that Taron isn’t on the floor cleaning. “Certainly kept the sense of style.”

“Ay, trying to get a bit more color in his wardrobe. Been wearing fancy hats since he shaved his head.”

The reminder makes Taron come out of things, freeze while cleaning momentarily, imperceptibly. He remembers that he’s wearing a wig. The feeling of worry about his hair starts to eek into his mind and the wig feels so fake and artificial on his head. 

“Shaved his head? Bet that looked funny when he first did it,” says Jamie, taking a sip of wine. 

Taron is falling, feels the ground approaching as he scrubs and his eyes start to water somewhat. He blinks repeatedly to make the tears go away. He can’t cry in front of his friends, he thinks frantically as his hand stutters back and forth to clean up the spilled wine. He can’t be ugly in front of them. His bum feels too big, the dress way too high and showing off his thick thighs and he leans back on them to hide them. His breathing goes shallow as he feels trapped in his body, all eyes boring in and judging him. 

Richard can see how his breathing and movements have changed. The jerky hand motions and the pathetic move backward to hide his exposed arse. 

“You missed a spot, girl,” says Richard, pointing vaguely. He thinks Taron is in that space, wanting humiliation and orders. Desperate and wanting his Richard to guide him.

Taron feels himself crash, like hitting the ground after a long fall. He’s suffocating, crushed under the weight of gazes that tear into him like knives. His breath hitches, and his legs go out and he hits the ground with a smack. “Red,” he cries, needing it to be over. He’s ugly and crying and tangled in his short dress and feels hopelessly trapped.

Suddenly, he’s being pulled to his feet and rushed out. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s being rushed through the hallway and then into the bedroom. He’s sitting on the bed. The wretched things come off: collar, wig, dress zipper. He feels the dress falling down his shoulders, and an arm that is steady and strong go around him, pulling him close.

“Shhh,” shushes Richard, letting Taron press his face into his neck. Taron is crying silently, the worst kind for him. The tears are just flowing down in rivlets and Richard lets him, soothing him with a hand rubbing his back.

Richard knows he’s fucked up, looking at the look of utter pain on Taron’s face. He doesn’t let it show, is steady as ever and will make it better. 

“What do you need, Taron?” asks Richard, letting Taron take his time. 

Taron is choking on his own snot as it runs out of his nose, getting on Richard’s nice shirt. He feels gross all over, but Richard isn’t pulling away or disgusted.

“I… I…” Taron pulls away, ashamed. He puts his hands over his head to hide it, like a child.

“We went too far,” says Richard, as a statement rather than a question. Taron nods, hiding his red and puffy eyes now. 

Taron is beginning to peek out of his fingers and sees the blurry form of Richard, steady and understanding and there for him. 

“I feel so ugly. Bald and fat,” says Taron, hiccuping a little. It dawns on him a little that this is a bit of character bleed. Elton had felt fat and ugly and self conscious about his hair and hated his body at times. Quite immensely, in fact, numbing himself not just from all the pain and loneliness and pressure, but the feeling of the ugliness taking over at times.

“I’m so sorry,” says Richard, rubbing Taron’s back and squeezing him tighter. “I love you, and didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Taron nods, chokes out “I know,” before he starts crying again. Richard feels a stab of pain at the broken voice but steadies himself. He will deal with the guilt later. Now is not the time to demand comfort from Taron.

“Here,” Richard says, getting up and getting a towel and taking Taron’s face gently in his hand as he sits back down. Taron sighs as Richard gently wipes off the makeup, feeling like he’s taking off an ugly mask. He stops crying, letting Richard’s gentle touches be his anchor. “Okay, now blow,” he says, holding out a clean part of the towel for Taron to blow his nose on, which he does. 

“Now, what do you need, Taron?” asks Richard, repeating himself, needing to know what kind of care his sub needs. “Need to get out of this,” Taron gestures vaguely to himself and his half dressed body. “Need a shower. Nee..” Taron stops and his eyes go wide, remembering their guests and the scene they had made. “Richard, Jamie, Jack, our party!” he exclaims, but Richard holds up a hand and keeps his face serene, well practiced at being the steady presence. 

“They were told what would happen if you used your safeword. You know that. Food is still on its way. Focus, Taron,” the light brush of direction helps Taron to recenter himself. He breathes, nods his head. “Need some space, if that’s okay?”

Richard nods, scooting back a little, giving Taron room to breathe. “Anything else?”

Taron thinks, not tries to focus on what will feel right.

“Want to continue the evening in a bit, and I want to pretend this didn’t happen, for the rest of the night, anyway.”

Richard pets his head gently, understanding. “Want to shower alone?” he asks, and Taron nods, needing the space. “Okay, then I’ll be out with the guests. Make sure we didn’t give them too much of a scare.” 

They both get up and Richard gives him one last reassuring squeeze, wanting to let Taron know that he’s there but not be overbearing. 

Usually, Richard needs more aftercare, but this time Richard is staying in the role of protective Dom until Taron feels safe and is back to being okay. He feels himself suck in a breath before returning to the party, knowing he has to stay strong for Taron until they can talk about this, his feelings of guilt be damned.

Taron strips the things off of himself, letting the dress fall and the pantihose with it, and he kicks off the high heels with gusto. He is more gentle with the silk panties, loving the feel of them, and for a moment lets himself enjoy the view in the mirror, liking the way they cup his ass.

He takes them off gently and walks into the bathroom, stepping into the shower and turning on the hot water and letting it run down his body. He takes the cockring off while standing under the near scalding spray, his member soft now. He couldn’t be less turned on, and he sets the thing down and turns to face the hot water full on.

He lets it rinse everything away, burning a bit and making his skin turn red. He relishes the feeling, becoming less tense as he lets the hot water relax the tension he didn’t realize he had been carrying. Taking the luffa, Taron begins to scrub his body down with soap, taking off what feels like a whole layer of skin. He feels the ugly outer layer that he felt was seen by his friends and lover wash down the drain. Taron keeps scrubbing until his skin is raw and it no longer feels good, and he just uses his hands to rub himself down with body wash. This does feel good. He can feel good. His body is good and he loves it, running his hands over his shoulders, down his stomach, soft but not fat. He gently adds more body wash, some expensive kind Richard loves. He rubs it into his hips and down his bum, cupping the cheeks. His thighs, his soft, pretty cock. He feels himself, loves himself physically as he lets the shower rinse away the sweet, smoky smell of the body wash. 

He gets out of the sower. Towels off, using a soft towel and then rubs a little moisturizer into his skin on his elbows and ankles, taking this time to recenter. He feels good, and he feels worthy of loves as he practices his self care. 

Taron picks out some of Richard’s sleep clothes, knowing that Richard will notice. He takes a deep breath before stepping out of the bedroom, padding quietly down the hall and back into the living room. The pizza is there and everyone is sitting around the tv and eating happily. Jamie turns and gives him a reassuring nod and Jack gives him another look and Taron just smiles, glad his friends are still with him. Still his friends. 

Richard stands up and walks him to the couch and gets him a plate of pizza and is suddenly cuddling him close. Of course Jurassic Park is on, Richard’s favorite movie, and of course the pizza is ham and pineapple and olives, Taron’s favorite pizza. 

As Taron takes the first mouth-watering bite, Richard pulls him closer and he smiles. He feels safe. 

The next day, Taron sits at the table and sips his coffee, feeling comfortable in Richard’s pajamas. He had slept in them and the scent of Richard on them had made him feel so safe. 

He looks up as Richard walks into the kitchen and pushes a cup toward him as he takes a seat. 

“Taron, I…” Richard begins, knowing that they need to have this conversation now.

“I don’t regret trying it,” says Taron, holding his mug with both hands and letting the warmth from the coffee radiate through him.

“I first want to apologize for pushing things too far,” says the Scotsman, determined to make things right.

“I know,” says Taron, relenting on this point. He has to let Richard say he’s sorry before he reassures him and they renegotiate.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel bad. I know you’re self conscious right now and I should have changed the topic. Forgive me?” he asks, pleadingly.

“Already done, Richard,” says Taron, taking another sip of coffee. 

“You know that you’re beautiful, right? And your hair is coming back and you’re beautiful with ‘o without it,” says Richard, reaching across the table to Taron.

Taron leans into his touch, letting himself be with Richard and trying to internalize the words. He still feels so awful about his hair, but he won’t protest this. 

“There were aspects I liked about last night, you know,” says Taron, wanting to change topics. “I liked the way everyone treated me up to the last bit, and I liked the way Jamie…”

“You want him, don’t you?” asks Richard, smiling at the thought.

“God yes,” breathes Taron, turning a bit red again.

“Don’t blame you, the way he talked about you turned me on as well. Might have to call him up and Kate and arrange something,” says Richard, smiling at the thought.

Taron takes a long sip of his coffee to hide his face, but the naughty look Richard gives him is making him smile into his cup.

“I liked the lingerie, as well. And you taking care of me, dressing me up. The dress wasn’t for me though. Got nothing in and of itself from being a girl.”

“Okay, T, so we won’t do tha’ again,” says Richard, taking Taron’s hand in his. “Anything else?” 

“Yes,” says Taron, setting his features and looking seriously at Richard. “Thank you. Last night you were strong when I needed it. But it’s my turn to take care of you now.” 

Draining his glass, Taron stands up and walks around the table, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “What do you need, Richard?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave reviews! I need suggestions on what to do next. I want to hear if this is good or bad, or if I should not take things the Jamie route.


End file.
